“You’ve got some memory,” Mike replied. “Yeah, I think he lived by Finlayson. I think they called him Dog because he had a Finnish name that meant dog.”
“I think his name was Bryan Santo,” Floyd said. “He was arrested a few years ago for cooking methamphetamine in an abandoned house.”
“I heard that,” Mike replied. “I also heard he got crosswise with an Asian gang in the Cities and they found him dead in an alley.
“So, everyone was high on Ecstasy that night?” Floyd asked.
“Naw. Like I said, Kenny, Betsy, and I took some. Kathy was too straight to do any kind of drugs. She didn’t want Aaron to do any either, so he didn’t take any. Melissa was getting a lot of pressure from Kenny to drop a Molly, which made her fight Ken even harder. Kenny even dropped one in her beer when she went to the bathroom, but Kathy spilled the beer before she drank any.”
“How did Kenny react to Melissa’s spilled beer?”
“Instead of making him mellow, the Mollys made Kenny paranoid, which just added to his bitchiness. He was already being hyper-macho and the Mollys turned him into an ass. When Kathy spilled Melissa’s beer, she tried to make it look like an accident, but Kenny was screaming at her. I think if a guy had done it, Kenny might’ve killed him, but because it was Kathy, he tried to slap her, but she was too quick and she ducked his hand. At that point, Kenny had tipped over a chair and the bartender yelled at us. He threatened to throw us out and Kenny settled down.”
“Who owned the house where you crashed.”
“I never heard his name other than it was Melissa’s uncle’s place. It’s a big A-frame with a loft and huge windows that look over the Round Lake. It’s hard to miss.”
“Did Aaron know about that house and where the key was hidden?” Floyd asked.
“I suppose,” Mike said, after thinking a bit. “But the night before Kenny died it was just Betsy and me at the house.”
“But Aaron had been there and he knew where to find the key,” Floyd said.
“We partied there a few times after Kenny went into the Army and Aaron was with us once or twice. He started hanging out in the Cities more in October and November, before Kenny died, but he was with us that summer. Why would it matter?”
“I think Aaron stole an ATV from a cabin on Passenger Lake. A farmer found it in his ditch near Round Lake.”
The news shook Mike although he tried to hide it from Floyd. “What makes you think Aaron stole the ATV? After all these years it’s hard to say it was him that stole it. It might be a coincidence that it was found near Round Lake.”
“You seem awfully interested in debunking my theory. Why?”
“No reason. It just seems like…well, like a stretch, that’s all.”
Floyd took a Kleenex from a box on Mike’s desk and wiped some non-existent doughnut residue from his hands, letting the silence work on Mike. “Aaron showed up at the A-frame house while you and Betsy were still there, didn’t he?”
“No,” Mike said. “We cleaned up and locked the door behind us while it was still dark out. No one else was anywhere near as far as I know.”
“You’re keeping something back, Mike.” Floyd had studied people’s behavior for nearly four decades and Mike was sending strong signals he was equivocating. “Something else happened at the house. What was it?”
“Nothing really.” Mike acted like he hoped that answer would satisfy Floyd. After several seconds of silence he added, “Melissa found out we’d spent the night there and went ballistic. That’s all.”
“Why’d she go ballistic?”
“You know. She didn’t want us to go there without her. She was mad we’d used the key to let ourselves in. I think she panicked and went back to change the sheets and things like that. That’s all. It wasn’t that big a deal.”
There was more to the issue than Mike was letting on, but a buzzer sounded as the front door opened. A customer walked into the showroom.
“I’ve got to go,” Mike said, looking out the office window and watching a contractor walk through the aisles wearing his paint-stained white coveralls.
“Tell me if you think of anything else about Aaron and maybe seeing him at the Round Lake house,” Floyd said as Mike opened the office door and held it open.
“Sure, Floyd.”
CHAPTER 39
Floyd knocked on the Brooklyn Center townhouse door at 4 o’clock. Betsy’s teenage daughter answered the door with a flourish that quickly died when she saw Floyd standing on the step. Her hair was spiked, each spike a different color. She wore a skintight tank top that clung to her budding breasts and was short enough to leave a lot of exposed skin above her hip-hugging jeans. The gap exposed the ring through the edge of her navel.
“Hello, Alyssa.”
“You’re the cop, right?”
“Right. Is your mom home?”
“Why’s your arm in a sling? Did you get beat up in a bar fight?”
“Something like that. Can you get your mom, please?”
“Mom! There’s a cop here to see you!” The girl gave him a sly grin, then walked away swaying her narrow hips provocatively.
Betsy Webb rushed to the door trailing a towel. Her hair was still wet from a shower and wet spots dotted her purple Minnesota Vikings T-shirt. She wore denim shorts without socks or shoes.
“Oh, God. I thought it was a real cop.” Betsy shook her head, “I mean I thought it was a local cop. Alyssa’s been in a little trouble lately.”
“May I come in?” Floyd asked.
Betsy pushed the door open and led Floyd to the kitchen where a batch of chocolate chip cookies was cooling next to the sink. The countertops were littered with bowls, and cookie sheets. She picked up two cookies and set them on a plate on the kitchen table.
“Have a cookie and talk while I load the dishwasher,” she said.
“I talked to Mike about the night Aaron disappeared,” Floyd said. “He told me about the Ecstasy you took at the bar, the night at the Round Lake house, and Aaron. I’d like to hear your side of it.”
The glass mixing bowl fell to the floor and smashed. Betsy stood still, staring at the broken glass around her bare feet with a stunned look on her face.
“Don’t move!” Floyd said. “Stay still while I clean up the glass.”
“The wastebasket is under the sink and the broom is in the closet next to the refrigerator.”
Floyd picked up the largest pieces of glass and dropped them into the wastebasket with his free hand. He was taking out the broom and dustpan when Alyssa came down the hall. “Stay back while I clean up the broken glass,” Floyd told her.
She stood next to the kitchen door and watched Floyd sweep with one hand. “Mom would’ve been really pissed if I’d dropped that bowl.”
“It’s spilt milk,” Betsy said. “I thought you were waiting for a ride to the mall?”
“Jen’s mom wasn’t home from work yet and she’s giving us a ride. Who broke the bowl, you or the cop?”
“It slipped out of my hands. Deputy Swenson is just helping so I don’t cut my feet.”
Floyd finished sweeping with one hand and wiped the floor quickly with a damp paper towel. “That should do it.”
Betsy had been standing with her arms wrapped across her chest as if she were cold. She took three tentative steps and sat in a kitchen chair. “Thanks.” Alyssa walked away once the excitement died. Floyd dumped the glass from the dustpan into the wastebasket.
“You were going to tell me about the Ecstasy, the Round Lake house, and Aaron,” Floyd prompted as he picked up a cookie and took a bite. The warm chocolate oozed around his fingers.
“I’m sure there’s nothing I can add to whatever Mike said.”